July flies by

I stared at my computer screen for the longest time this morning, searching for an answer, but still simply lost.

July 29.

That's the date that popped up on my Outlook calendar when I booted up. My old-school paper calendar, dangling off a crooked nail, confirmed it: yep, it's July 29.

Still, I was overwhelmed with confusion and denial. How could it actually be July 29th already?

This month has flown by.

It's been such a great July; I've really loved it. Yes, love ... even though it was in the summer.

I've made it pretty clear in the past that I am not a summer girl; I'm an autumn girl. Yet, this past month has been a delight, right up there with the best of Septembers. Even though I spent most of it sick. Even though it rained too much. Even though it was swamp-level humid. Even though my hair was shaggy and unruly.

Even with all that, it was full of good stuff.

We started the month with a beach vacation in Michigan, my favorite vacation destination.

27 years and counting ...

And then we celebrated the Fourth at home.

The garden gave.

Not to brag, but I'm pretty good at growing cukes. Just sayin' ...

The days were long and ended in glorious swirls of melted crayons.

We played games and feasted like kings on fried chicken and donated desserts at our church picnic.

We had some Christmas in July treats here at home, plus a double feature of Elf and Christmas Vacation.

Choc-dipped pretzels, fudge and mint choc chip cookies.

And school started today.

Maybe - just maybe - summer is finally winning me over.

Actually, that's not it.

It's so humid right now, when I step outside it feels like I just dressed myself in a warm, wet wool sweater that's been soaked in a sticky, flat Pepsi and locked in a plastic storage tote that's been stored in the hellish, fiery sun.

So, um, no. It's definitely not a love affair between summer and me.

But July 2015 ... it's been one heck of a fling.

Cash gift idea

So, here you are on Christmas Eve and you have that last gift to snag for a young person on your list ... hmmm ... what to do?

Money, my friends.

Cash = freedom, especially for young people. Freedom to save, spend or just blow it. From the pre-teen years on up through their 20s (and beyond, if we're being honest), kids want cash. They just do.

As a gift giver, though, cash is ... eh, boring. It's no fun to give.

... hands a 20 to nephew ... "Here, go buy yourself something real nice."

Blah.

Recently, I was faced with this conundrum myself. My son was participating in a gift exchange among his cousins. He drew his awesome, wonderful 15-year-old male cousin's name. There was a $20 limit on the gift.

"What do you want to get him?" I asked my son.

"Cash. He's going to want cash, Mom."

Boring.

Not liking that answer, we consulted with the parents to really gauge his heart's desire (at the $20 level) and they said the same thing: he wants cash. He will be 16 soon and he is saving for a car and all the things to go with it - like gasoline and fountain drinks from fast food drive-thrus that you actually do the driving through.

Not satisfied with just having one 15-year-old boy hand another 15-year-old boy a crisp 20 (though both 15-year-olds would have been cool with that), I sought help from the highest authority on how to package said 20 with flair: Pinterest.

Pinterest was too hard.

For example, a simple money tree, you know, where you hang singles from the branches? I'd have to hand craft a tree - a freaking tree of sorts - and then you know, hang the money.

Um, no.

There are a lot of people who are far more creative than I with much more time than I. I love, admire and respect you people. But I am not one of you people.

But there was inspiration.

Here's what I came up with. It can be used for any gift-giving occasion: birthdays, holidays, graduation, new home, new job, etc.

It involved the following: A wooden rolling pin ($3 at Walmart), a small cookie sheet ($1 at Dollar Tree), clear packing tape and a 20 dollar bill. And the thought: rolling the dough.

I taped the rolling pin to the cookie sheet with the packing tape so it would not shift or move, typed up a little note and then lightly taped the money using regular Scotch tape.

Here it is:

It fit in a shirt box so I could even wrap it up and he would have something to open.

Detail showing where I used the clear tape to adhere the rolling pin and note. Don't use packing tape to adhere the money; it is lightly taped with regular tape rolled on the back.

"I hope you're rolling in the dough so you can save up for a sweet ride." Get it? ;)

What will a 15-year-old boy do with a wooden rolling pin? No idea. But it made him smile and got him $20 closer to whatever his heart desires this Christmas.

And that is what it's all about, my friends.

Merry Christmas!

PS - The photo at the top of this post is of my son's stocking, so, spoiler alert if you read this, Son: there's $20 in your stocking. You're welcome.

A look around

Gosh, it's been awhile since I've been in this space. I've been busy and blogging has not been a priority in this girl's life.

Don't take that personally; I love you.

This fall has been full. My schedule doth overflow. I'm not bragging and I'm not complaining. I'm just busy.

I don't know a single person who, when asked, "So, things been busy?" would answer with anything other than an exasperated affirmation. We tend to fill our time. Being busy - especially for women - is often a brag-y kind of badge of honor: "I'm so busy" = "I'm so important/needed/essential etc." To admit otherwise makes us seem somehow less in a society that constantly compares.

That said, I have no problem admitting I've experienced profound boredom.With that came a heaping portion of depression and loneliness. Idle hands/devil's workshop sort of stuff.

No thanks.

And so I will always appreciate being busy. Even if I feel as though life will swallow me right up at any moment.

Work commitments, pressing deadlines and a lousy construction-laden daily commute swell my weekday calendar. Outside of that, there are community and church volunteer commitments on an almost daily basis.

Plus, lest we forget, I'm a wife and mom. Carving out family time has been a challenge, but we did manage a fall break family vacation to Washington DC.

My son's high school marching band season is in full swing and so we are up early and out late every weekend. My butt is in the bleachers a lot - at home football games on Fridays and at contests almost every Saturday.

I love it. I really do. 

Oh, and I've been sick ... like four-rounds-of-antibiotics sick with various maladies since August.

So there's that.

Low energy and an overwrought schedule have been my challenges this fall. It's hard to stay on track. At times, I wonder if am I veering without noticing, like a sleepy driver behind the wheel.

That's why it's good to hit the brakes and take a look around.

Get your bearings.

Remember where you've been.

See where you are.

Bask in the moment.

Look at the road ahead.

My truth is this: my life is hectic. It is overwhelming.

And it is infinitely blessed.

I took one of the photos in Washington DC of the Washington Monument, and all the rest here in Indiana at a band contest in Greenwood, at Mount Saint Francis, at Perrin Park in Jeffersonville and along the country roads of Floyd County. These are my photos, unedited, no filters, no Instagram.

This is what I see when I stop and take a look around.

Still summer

School started here last week.

Yes, last week.

When it was still July.

School ended in June ... and started again in July. They went to school every month this past year.

That's a shift for us here, a shift that began last school year to a "balanced" calendar. School starts earlier, but now includes longer, two-week breaks in the fall, at the traditional winter break and in the spring.

Not everyone in the school district is a fan of this schedule, but we like it. It works for us as a family. My husband and I work year-round and we are better able to take time off together as a family with the breaks spread throughout the year.

My son enjoyed his shortened summer. He packed in all the summertime things a teen should: camping, fishing, swimming, sleeping in, time with friends, movies, cookouts, books, bike rides, running, band camp, a 10-day trip to the beach and a day at an amusement/water park. He took a driver's ed class, got his learner's permit and spent a good deal of time behind the wheel carting his parents around. It was a good summer.

And it still is.

Even though school is in session, it's still summer. Summer didn't come to a screeching halt when the school bus doors swung open.

Summer break is over for the kids here, but summer itself still rages on. And if summer is your season, then there's still time to enjoy the best parts of it, even if doing so requires working around the last bell of the school day.

There's still time for cherry tomatoes from the garden.

There's still time for flowers to bloom.

There's still time for long walks down a winding road with a friend.

There's still time for cooling rain showers.

There's still time for burgers on the grill.

There's still time for a big bowl of syrup-draped ice cream or chunks of sweet watermelon.

There's still time for tales by the campfire or even a picnic.

There's still time for a stroll by the lake or on the golf course.

 There's still time for farms to produce and provide.

There's still time to be carefree..

There's still time for the sun to hover a little longer and bless us with evening light.

There's still time for mosquitos, snakes, ticks, sweaty bras, sun burns on the back of your legs, and dried-up lawns, too ... but I'm aiming for the positive in this post, so I'll downplay all that.

Truth be told, it's been a beautiful summer here. Relatively mild temps, with several evenings spent sleeping with the windows open. That almost never happens here May through August ... unless you like to sleep in a stifling oven in the humid kitchen of hell while being marinated in the sweat of Satan himself.

This year, however, it's been so darn pleasant, it's the first summer in a long time that I haven't wished it away pining for fall to arrive and set me free from the AC prison.

So even though we are back to the familiar rhythm of the school year so soon after the end of the last one, I really can't complain.

Change is coming.

But there's still time to make the most of the season while the season lasts.

Date day

Our son left last week to spend 10 days in Florida on vacation with another family.

So that means his longest - and probably best ever - family vacation will be spent with another family.

<sigh>

That also means that his little family back here in Indiana has gone from three to just a pair. Granted, this is how the whole thing got started - mommy and daddy love each other very much and got married and then there was a baby - but it hasn't been just mommy and daddy alone in the house for an extended period of time for more than 15 years.

I'm not a huge fan of this arrangement, but it is my future: we aren't raising our child in order to keep him with us forever; we expect he will leave us at some point. College lurks in the visible future. Then it will be just my husband and me again.

But we're not there yet.

In light of the kid's absence, my husband suggested we get away for the weekend. Really, just an over-nighter somewhere. Just the two of us. He works every other weekend, and even though he was scheduled to work this past weekend, he offered to take the time off so we could be together.

My response? "Eh ... nah."

Please understand: I like my husband. A lot. He's the best. And I like to spend time with him. After 26 years together as a couple, we still dig each other very much. It's just that I got real practical about it all and said, "Save the time off for another occasion. School fees are coming up, so let's save the money. We can just do something another time."

We're parents. We don't "get" - get time to ourselves, get to do what we want, get to have non-family fun. We give - give our time, give our attention, give our resources.

As he so often does, my husband ignored me ... and took the time off anyway.

When  my boss asked me how I was doing with my son away, I mentioned my husband's gesture with a pinch of disdain for his stubbornness.

"Lorri, if a man wants to plan a romantic get-away, go," she said. "You will never remember the weekend you just stayed home, but you will always remember the weekend you got away."

Okay, that got me.

In the spirit of compromise and cost saving, we agreed to get away, but just for the day and come back home that evening.

I'm so very glad we did.

We spent the day in Bardstown, Ky., just about an hour or so from our home. It is a lovely small town, named The Most Beautiful Small Town in America in 2012, and has been recognized as having one of the most beautiful town squares. Here's more about Bardstown, including its rich history.

We dined at a cool old tavern, the Old Talbot Tavern, admiring the stonework, rough floors and beams as much as the fried catfish and sweet potato fries.

We giggled and flirted.

We held hands as we walked along the old downtown pavers.

We shopped. He indulged me in purchases without the usual mentions of budget, space, or need.

I bought gloves. In July.

We took our time. Not once did we worry about being somewhere else.

We lingered under the cooling shade of a garden arbor at a park on a hot day.

He kissed my hand. I leaned into his arm.

We spent the rest of our evening at home, cuddled up on the couch with a pizza and cold beer. We watched chick-flicks and stayed up late.

Gosh, it was such a nice date.

My boss was right: I will remember the get-away. I will remember feeling special and pretty and loved. I will remember that it's okay to indulge in something just for us as a couple. Yes, parenting involves a lot of sacrifice, but that doesn't mean we should sacrifice the fundamental relationship that made us parents in the first place.

I needed to let go: not just of my growing child, but also of my habit of selflessness.

Because every now and again, a girl just needs a date day away with her best fella.